Troops Of Heroes Undistinguished Die.

A Great Large Book Is A Great Evil.

Were A Man's Sorrows And Disquietudes Summed Up At The End Of His Life, It Would Generally Be Found That He Had Suffered More From The Apprehension Of Such Evils As Never Happened To Him Than From Those Evils Which Had Really Befallen Him.

A Man Who Has Any Relish For Fine Writing Either Discovers New Beauties Or Receives Stronger Impressions From The Masterly Strokes Of A Great Author Every Time He Peruses Him; Besides That He Naturally Wears Himself Into The Same Manner Of Speaking And Thinking.

I Consider Time As An In Immense Ocean, In Which Many Noble Authors Are Entirely Swallowed Up.

There Is Not A More Unhappy Being Than A Superannuated Idol.